How Do I Breathe Without You?
by clarawithfitzsimmonsin221b
Summary: Agent Maria Hill makes the dangerous mistake of splitting up Strike Team Delta...Will S.H.I.E.L.D. be able to fix her error before it's too late? What happens if the famous duo isn't back together in time? How far will the mission go before things turn south? And who gets caught in the middle?
1. Chapter 1

Watching him walk away from her nearly took her under. She stared at his back, then at the empty space long after he was gone. She started to vibrate and from her very center the motion started until her entire body was quaking uncontrollably. She had just crumpled to the floor in the fetal position when Pepper walked in the door, took one look at Natasha, dropped the groceries she was carrying, and wrapped her arms around her friend. It was a sign of her pain that Natasha didn't protest when Pepper picked her up and started to carry her to her room. When they passed the door to his room Pepper nearly lost her grip on Natasha as the shaking escalated violently. Natasha clawed at Pepper until the latter understood and took Natasha into Clint's room and lay her down on his bed. A fear had overtaken Pepper just as it always did when one of them had to leave the other. Her eyes darted around the room and she snatched a sweatshirt from the floor. It was a few sizes too big but she pulled it over Natasha's slim frame and let her inhale his scent while she tucked his giant comforter around Natasha. Natasha still trembled irrepressibly and Pepper turned to the only solution left-wait. Pepper was still awake when Natasha finally spoke over 14 hours later. "Give it to me Pepper." "Give you what?" "You know damn well what. Give me the bottle." "No. You are not going to drink yourself unconscious." "I'll be the judge of that. Give me the bottle." "No." Pepper might have been a genius in her own right, but she had little chance against Natasha in a physical fight. With the added pain of Clint's absence Pepper had no chance when Natasha lunged. A solid kick to temple put Natasha's jailer out of commission for a while. When she had retrieved her entire stash of alcohol she shut herself in Clint's room again, wrapped herself in every one of his blankets she could find and put her focus on the vodka. At S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ Nick Fury was sorting through a stack of mission details. He flipped to one for Clint Barton, gave it a scan and set it down. When he picked up the next sheet he expected to see a familiar red head looking up at him. To his shock and immediate concern he instead was staring at an unfamiliar man, someone named Grant Ward. He called Maria Hill over instantly. "Agent Hill." "Yes sir?" "You wanna explain to me why Barton is on a mission without Romanoff?" "She wasn't needed sir. The other agent was more qualified for this specific mission." "More qualified than Romanoff?" Fury snorted, "that's the stupidest thing I've heard all day." "It's true sir." "I don't care. Do you know what you've done?" "Sir?" "Get me Coulson. Now." Hill turned and walked out of Fury's office with haste. A few moments later Coulson appeared in the office. "You wanted to see me sir?" Fury fixed his eye on Coulson. "Yes. I need you to get over to Stark Tower ASAP." "What is it sir?" "Hill sent Barton on a mission." Said Fury. Coulson looked confused until Fury finished, "without Romanoff." Coulson's whole face went white and he flew out of the office and up to the helipad. Coulson made it to Stark Tower in record time. He took one look at the closed door and pounded on it. "Natasha! Open the door now!" There was no answer from within. "I swear to God Natasha, I will kick this door in if you don't let me in!" She still didn't answer. Steeling himself, Coulson backed up and busted down the door. He expected to see Natasha, possibly curled in a ball, possibly ready to attack him. What he didn't expect to see was no Natasha at all. The room appeared empty at first. There were countless empty vodka bottles lying all over the floor and dozens of blankets and sweatshirts were piled on the bed. Coulson took one step into the room when he heard a soft groan off to the left. He turned and saw Pepper, curled up in a ball with a sizeable bruise forming on her head. "Pepper! What happened?" Coulson ran over to her and carefully lifted her onto the bed. "Clint left…Natasha…bad state…tried to stop her drinking…" "And she knocked you out." Coulson said. Pepper nodded, "I woke up…she was leaving…she told me not to…but…" "You tried to stop her again. And she knocked you out again." Coulson shook his head. "Only you would try Pepper. Let me get you an ice pack." Once he had Pepper settled and in J.A.R.V.I.S.'s care Coulson called Fury. "She was already gone when I got here sir." Fury cursed, "Where did she go?" Coulson rolled his eyes, "Well where did Hill send Barton?" "Natasha can't go there," Fury said, "She wasn't briefed and she doesn't know where they are." "She doesn't need to be briefed." 


	2. Chapter 2

Her heart pounded out a jagged rhythm and her feet landed silently against the pavement as she ran. Strands of hair flew into her eyes, but it didn't matter. She had a target and she was gonna reach it. The runway was dark enough that no one noticed her, even by the glow of the runway lights. A plane was trundling out onto the runway, about to start picking up speed. Her pace never faltered as she ran straight at it and, as the wheels lifted she jumped and hooked herself in the little crevice just under the wing. Her heart beat slowed and she settled herself in for the long flight to Frankfurt.

Clint liked working with Grant Ward. He was an accomplished agent, but he was a specialist. There were some cons to that, like the lack of teamwork and a surplus of narrow-mindedness. Barton couldn't help but compare him to how the op would have run if Natasha was here. They could have probably gotten out of Frankfurt without any gunfire, and there would have been less explaining to do back at HQ. Well, thought Clint, that might not be strictly true. He smiled at the memory of all the explaining he and Nat had had to do in their time at S.H.I.E.L.D. I wonder how long it's gonna take Fury to just stop asking. He shook his head, still smiling. Coulson's already there. He glanced at the clock, then over at Ward. They exchanged a nod, grabbed their bags and hit the road.

She dropped out of the wing well just before the wheels touched down. She was careful to stick to the shadows and avoid the bright morning sunlight. Natasha spotted a door that she could get in through so she calmly assumed her confident pose and walked right into the airport. Once in among the shops she made her way around looking for any details. She didn't quite know all the mission details, but the small impediment wasn't enough to send her home. Her eyes landed on a case of soft pretzels just as her nose detected it: a scent she knew very well-his scent. A warm, musky smell heavily ladened with the metal aura that clung to him from his bow. Natasha's head snapped right and she darted down the hallway, which lead her to a list of outgoing flights. Whatever they did, she thought, they didn't do it here. So where are they now? With her eyes closed she focused on her knowledge from S.H.I.E.L.D. hoping for a flurry of information when a tentative notion struck her and she looked up at her new destination.

Rome.

Clint and Ward ducked out of the hotel that S.H.I.E.L.D. had put them up in. It was inconspicuous, but that wasn't very hard here. All the buildings had very similar architectural style-the main identification was the name. The two agents made their way down the street. The sun was shining and already they were both glistening with sweat. They had a bus to catch.

She hit the ground running in Rome. The city was beautiful, but she was a little short on time. A quick check of the sun told her that Clint was likely awake already-The Hawk was an early riser. Natasha set off in a steady rhythm down the street. The buildings might all look the same, but Natasha's well trained eye could pick out the miniscule qualities that S.H.I.E.L.D prized. She glanced up at one hotel, taking in the fair sized windows that were close to the ground on the first floor. The door was a straight shot to the street. Natasha entered the lobby and approached the front desk,

"Mi scusi, il mio amico doveva incontrare me fuori e lui non ha dimostrato ancora ... ha fatto a piedi fuori già? Un po 'più alto, muscoloso, vestito di nero, probabilmente un altro uomo con lui?"

"Oh, sì, sì," the man nodded, "Hanno lasciato circa due ore fa ... voce in quel modo." He gestured right and she nodded and set off.

The bus let them off a few hours from where they started. Both men had easily sighted their target. Crouching behind a boulder, Ward loaded his rifle and set it discreetly beneath a camouflage cover. Barton checked and stored each of his arrows and spoke for the first time in several hours.

"You ready?"

"All set. Remember the plan alright?" The look Clint gave Ward bordered right between insulted and condescending. Barton flicked his wrist and snapped his bow into place.

"Let's go."

She was close. It wasn't something she knew for sure, but there was a feeling in her bones that said she was. Natasha had the windows rolled up in the sleek black car that she had commandeered and was fully focused on her driving. The path the mission team had taken would out of Rome and up to Florence. Who could they possibly be after? It was a mystery, but not overly important. Her foot inched forward on the gas pedal and she plowed steadily into the night.

Clint didn't look behind him as he walked away from the dark building. He had a small package in his grasp, the first goal of their mission. It was one piece of a large puzzle that Clint and Ward had to put together. The journey across Europe was taking too long for Clint's liking, but he had no real control over his missions. Still, he couldn't help wondering what was going on at home and how Natasha was doing. She was surely enjoying some free time off from Strike Team Delta and getting some alcohol in her system. He was still smiling at the thought when he crumpled to the rocky ground.


	3. Chapter 3

When Natasha reached Florence in mid-morning the city was already buzzing. The house on the hill, people said, the house on the hill has been robbed. She knew better than to ask if anyone had been caught-even dragging another agent along, Clint still wouldn't be caught. It seemed that whatever Fury had Barton and Ward doing involved a small stone laced with gold. In all her memory of S.H.I.E.L.D. training she could only recall rumors of the use for such a stone. Among the rumors the same idea that had led her here emerged. It fit the path that the mission had followed so far, but the next city should confirm her theory. The lights of Paris emanated out, lighting the entire surrounding landscape. Safely shielded in an apartment halfway out from the Eiffel Tower Ward was sitting on the bed. His clothes and hands were covered in blood that wasn't his own and his face was smeared with dirt. Clint was lying on the bed motionless and barely breathing. The crisp white sheets had turned a deathly crimson with his blood. There were countless gashes on his head and bruises were forming all over his arms and legs. There were tiny scratches and cuts on every inch of his skin but the main blood flow was coming from his chest. Directly to the right of his heart his captors had carved an arrow pointing to a nick just over his heart. Gazing out the window, Ward shuddered, remembering the knife that had been about to pierce Clint's heart when Ward had arrived. Having secured their location, Ward hoisted Barton as gently as possible into the bathroom. The water turned a deep scarlet with the first spray, an initial rinse revealing how seriously Barton was injured. Ward had almost failed again-he couldn't afford to lose another teammate, not mentally, not emotionally, not after-stop it, he told himself. He winced with apology as he rubbed soap over every inch of Barton's skin, even though Clint plainly couldn't feel the pain as blood continued to flow even as Ward rubbed soap over it. He took a towel and pat-dried his friend, then began the process of bandaging. 4 packs of gauze and a tube of antiseptic later, a mummified Clint Barton in black sweats lay on the floor of the bathroom, still unconscious. Shreds of his regular clothes mingled with blood and grime on the floor. Ward left him lying there while he bundled up the blood-soaked sheets and stashed them out of sight. He didn't bother cleaning up the room in general, just set Barton down on the stripped mattress and sat next to him. "We'll Barton, what's our next move?" *silence* "Personally I think we stick to the plan." *silence* "So you go in and I'll cover your back." *silence* Ward set his head in his hands in a sigh of defeat and picked up their emergency phone. It was time to call S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha knew something was wrong the minute she hit Paris. The city was running normally-no buzzing about unusual people or serious actions. Judging by the timeline forming in her head the mission team should have already made their move and they hadn't. That meant something was very, very wrong. The ringing of a phone filled the car and immediately filled Natasha with panic. Only two people in this world knew that number. One was herself. The other would not have dialed the number if he was well enough to call. There was only one person who knew enough to figure out this number and the fact that he had done so meant only one thing. She answered the call. "Coulson." "Natasha. Where are you?" "You know where I am. Where is he?" "How did you know he was in Paris Natasha?" "Dammit Coulson! You don't understand what you did when you called this number! Tell me where he is, now!" "The apartment," Coulson said softly. The phone clicked in her ear and she hit the gas. "Your backup is almost there Agent Ward." Fury was on the phone when Coulson walked back in and nodded. "It should be 15 minutes, max." "With all due respect sir, that's not possible," Ward knew where all surrounding teams were, "there isn't anyone that close." "With all due respect-" Fury stopped short when Coulson motioned for the phone. "Ward." Coulson spoke seriously, knowing Ward was frozen, possibly cringing at the voice of his old boss. Coulson knew it hurt to talk to him but Ward needed to understand what was coming. "Backup will be there before we finish talking. Do whatever she says and if you value your life don't stand between her and the alcohol." The sound of a door being kicked in echoed over the line. "There she is. Good luck." Ward set his phone down and looked at Natasha who was staring at Clint's motionless form. Her limbs were rigid and every part of her showed tension except her eyes. Her eyes burned but there was an underlying resignation, as if she had expected worse. She turned those burning eyes on Ward. "Let's go." Ward sputtered. "But you don't know-" "Yes I do." The burning eyes were back on him. "You can't possibly-" "Look." The eyes were full on drilling into his soul now. "I don't know you. You've probably heard of me but you obviously don't know me since you're still asking questions. I know Coulson told you to listen to me. I also know that my partner and best friend is lying bloody, unconscious and it happened on your watch. So you better sort yourself out before I tell Coulson to get you out of my way. " She turned to the door when Ward, pride wounded, said, "Who the hell so you think you are?" She turned back slowly and looked him dead on with a piercing stare. "Natasha Romanoff." Less than an hour later Natasha, Barton, and Ward were on their way out of Paris. Ward was driving the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle while Natasha sat in the back with Clint. They had laid him down in the back seat after they packed up in Paris. Now Natasha rested her hand lightly on his forehead, a wrinkle of worry on her face as one thumb repeatedly stroked a stray hair. She willed him to open his eyes, she needed him back here. Wake up, Clint. Please. Just wake up. The small French town of Verdun was just stirring when they pulled into an empty gravel lot. Ward slammed the door and started to pull Clint from the car when his hands were smacked away, replaced by smaller feminine ones. He turned to find himself faced with the unyielding face of Agent Romanoff and all protest died in his throat. She pulled Barton into her arms and kicked the car door shut. "Get the door." A whole new level of intensity rang in her voice and demeanor. Something had changed in that car ride. Ward opened the trap door by the car and the trio descended into darkness. "We have to go." Ward was waiting impatiently by the door. He was dressed in his combat mission clothes, fully loaded with weaponry. He rolled his eyes in the direction of Natasha, who was still standing by a makeshift cot. Through the whole of the mission planning she had sat next to Clint, watching him, nodding along to the run through of the plan as if he already knew it. Of course, though Ward, for all I know she does know it already. Natasha gave Clint one last glance, then turned and walked out past Ward. 


	4. Chapter 4

The cover of night protected them now as they stole through the Verdun battlefields. The motion of the two figures was fluid, but it lacked the familiarity of a team. Natasha tried not to let the fact that the other half of her team was lying unconscious and half dead bother her, but that fact, coupled with the lack of time for alcohol was slowly pulling her under. The only saving grace was her S.H.I.E.L.D. trained mind, which forced her to focus on the goal of their mission. A few miles in the distance was what most Verdun visitors believed was a deep hole leftover from the trenches at the base of a tree. To the innocent explorer it was an inactive piece of history. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew better. The holes were a direct entrance to a secret underground network built by French Homeland Security. Natasha smiled ever so slightly at the memory of her and Clint's last mission there. The particular hole they were entering would drop them right by the next piece of the puzzle. As the target came into view Ward motioned Natasha forward and she tucked and rolled, sliding silently into the hole. A slight swish told her that Ward was safely behind her. She landed without a sound, letting her momentum carry her into the shadows. As soon as she felt Ward slide into place beside her she punched a sequence into her keypad. From the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of a smile from Ward, for no apparent reason, as the drone went about opening the hatch for them. The hatch clicked open-the first sound either of them had heard for hours, but neither flinched. The next sound was also one they had expected: approaching footsteps. Ward lifted a funny looking pistol and took careful aim at the flashlight coming into view. When the blob holding the flashlight was just distinguishable as a person, Ward fired. Just seconds after he shot Natasha was flying toward the open hatch, thinking _he better not have missed_, then wincing slightly because that was a thought she never had to have. Evidently Ward hit his target because Natasha landed safely and snatched the small black pouch that made up the entire contents of the vault. She turned out of the hatch and shot her grappling hook up the way they came, grabbed Ward's arm, and let the force pull them up to safety.

Back in the bunker, Clint opened his eyes, then immediately shut them as an onslaught of pain enveloped him. He groaned and put a hand to his head, wincing with the motion of his arm. Of course, the loud crash of the door didn't help at all; nor did Natasha's cry,

"Clint!" He rolled his head in the direction of her voice as she flew to his side.

"Natasha?" His voice was rough from disuse and he had to stop and swallow. "What are you doing here?" Natasha settled herself on the stool by the bed.

"We'll it seems that Agent Ward here panicked when he found you and he called S.H.I.E.L.D." She smirked at Clint's groan as he looked to Ward, who had come up alongside the bed.

"You called S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Ward held his hands up defensively.

"Look, you were basically dead. We would still be stuck in Paris if I hadn't called S.H.I.E.L.D. for backup." At this, Clint snorted and Natasha shot him a conspiratorial smile.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. never sent any backup." Said Clint, "There's only one thing they've been doing since we left." Ward was sputtering at Clint's statement.

"And what is that exactly?"

"Trying to find me." Natasha smiled at Ward's look.

"Find you?" Confusion was plain across Ward's face, "but Fury sent you."

"And here I was, thinking you might be one of the bright ones." Clint shook his head, "Use your brain Ward! You know there weren't any backup teams close enough to help. Why do you think Natasha showed up alone?"

"Honestly," Natasha smiled at Clint, "The quality of recruits has just spiraled down since we graduated, hasn't it?" The two of them laughed, but Ward glowered at the pair.

"Alright I get it." Ward rolled his eyes. "Agent Romanoff followed us because she couldn't handle Agent Hill sending her boyfriend on a mission without her."

"He's not my boyfriend," Natasha was quick to correct Ward, "we're just partners."

"Sure. Whatever you say." Heavy sarcasm filled Ward's tone, something that wasn't missed by the couple. Her temper already a little on edge when it came to Ward, Natasha lunged for him, drawing a knife as she clamped him in a headlock. Clint made a half-hearted motion to stop her, but even on his best day he couldn't control Natasha and this was definitely not his best day.

"You want to say that again?" Natasha glared at Ward, who was trying to fight her off rather unsuccessfully. Ward looked up at Clint.

"A little help, Barton?" Clint just laughed out loud.

"If you think I can do anything to stop her, you obviously haven't spent enough time with the Black Widow." Natasha tightened her hold on Ward, her dagger shaking with the force of her grip on it.

"Okay, okay! Just partners!" Ward stepped away quickly when Natasha released him. "Touchy much?" he muttered. Natasha started back in his direction, murder in her eyes.

"Nat." Clint was quiet, but Natasha stopped to look at him and registered the look on his face that said let it go. She contented herself with a scowl in Ward's direction, and then resettled herself on her stool.

"So." Ward stood by the end of the bed. "On to Brussels next?" Clint shook his head.

"Fury said we already have that one-so no need to stop in Belgium. We'll go straight to London." Ward nodded.

"How soon can we go?" he asked. Natasha and Clint answered him in unison.

"Now."


	5. Chapter 5

London. Oddly shaped buildings mixed with modern architecture and 16th century churches dotted the skyline. Natasha and Ward were strolling casually down the crowded sidewalk, being jostled by busy Londoners on their way to work. Clint was back in the safe house, gnashing his teeth over the fact that he had been hurt and that they made him stay behind. British accents echoed in Ward's ears, dragging up the unpleasant memories that had been dogging him for weeks. _This whole damn mission is out to get me._ Frustrated, he shook his head in an attempt to focus. Natasha sent him a sidelong glance but didn't ask. They had bigger problems.

Clint had resigned himself to waiting when his phone rang. _An unknown number?_ He wrinkled his forehead but answered the call anyway.

"Hello?"

"There isn't much time." A female voice came over the line. "You're on a mission with someone named Grant Ward, aren't you?"

"Who the hell is this? How do you know that?"

"Relax, I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D. "

"Do you have a name?"

The voice on the other end of the line paused before answering, "I used to. It's not important now. You have to something for me."

"I don't even know you!"

Another pause, "What about for her? The one who's with Ward right now?"

"Natasha?" Clint swallowed, "she would have told me if she needed me to do something."

"She doesn't know she needs you to do this," said the voice, "but if you don't, she's going to die too."

Clint froze. "What do you want me to do?"

Natasha and Ward walked right up to the National Gallery. This was going to be interesting, but for some reason they needed a piece of a marble statue. The two agents exchanged a glance and a nod, and then headed inside and up to the second floor. This should be the easiest portion of the whole mission. They split at the top of the stairs. Ward went in the opposite direction of their target to cause a small distraction. Natasha went toward the statue, taking a winding path to the gallery. She smiled slightly when she saw the guard listen to his radio, go very white, then run from the room. She pulled out a pocket size drill and carved a piece off the back of some small angel's left leg. Mission completed, she turned to leave the gallery, only to find a shady figure blocking the only exit.

Ward was having way too much fun with his distraction. He had lassoed the four statues in the room, creating a sort of web that crisscrossed the ceiling. Now he was lying on top of the web, waiting for the dozen or so guards down below to figure out a way to get him down. Without warning, the ceiling above him opened, like a trap door that wasn't supposed to exist. _What the-that is not supposed to happen!_ Panic barely had time to course through him when there was a slight swish and he fell to the floor. Someone caught him and said,

"Get out. Now." He dropped Ward and darted from the room. Ward looked up to see what had cut his web and saw a black arrow embedded in the ceiling. He fled the gallery.

"Fancy meeting you here Agent Romanoff." The figure took a few steps forward. "I believe you have something we want."

"Well that's a little inconvenient isn't it," Natasha smiled with no humor, "since we want it too."

"Ah but the difference between us and you is that we will actually get it." The man walked further into the room.

"Over my dead body." Natasha glared at the man.

"If that's what it takes." He was completely calm. Natasha scoffed.

"I'd like to see you try. You will never get what you want from me."

"Don't be so sure." He said softly and Natasha felt a small prick at the base of her neck. She fell to the floor, unmoving. The chunk of stone fell out of her grasp. A second man stepped forward over her body and bent over to pick it up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." His voice was calm, but the fury in it was unmistakable. The second man looked up and saw his comrade on the floor, an arrow through his heart. Clint stood inside the doorway, arrow nocked and bow drawn, set to do the same to the second man. The second man stepped back slightly, looking a bit panicked.

"What did you do to her?" Clint struggled to keep his anger under control. _You need him_ he reminded himself, _you can't shoot him yet._

"Es ist einfach nur ein Beruhigungsmittel!" Clint nodded.

"Good." He loosed his arrow, letting the rage fully extend to his eyes now that he had his answers. The man crumpled to the floor and Clint ran to Natasha. He pulled her into his arms, turned, and ran out to their car.

"Drive." He told Ward and for once, Ward listened.

Natasha awoke to someone wiping her face with a cool rag. The room around her was white and didn't look like any safe house she knew.

"Nat?" She looked up at the person wiping her face for the first time.

"Clint. Where are we?" He looked relieved when he answered,

"We're back at S.H.I.E.L.D. Mission's over."

"How long was I out?"

"We've only been back for a couple hours but the flight here was about nine hours so quite a while." Natasha nodded.

"We've been cleared to go back to Stark Tower, if you're feeling up to it." Clint looked at her to see her response.

"Sure. Help me up." With Natasha leaning heavily on Clint's arm the pair made their way outside.

Ward saw Clint and Natasha walking toward Clint's truck.

"Hey!" he yelled, "We still have debrief!" Clint and Natasha turned and gave him identical looks of, _seriously? You think we're going to debrief? _then got into the truck. Neither looked back at Ward's look of annoyance, which quickly turned to shock when he heard the familiar voice of a girl.

"You might want to come inside Ward. We have a lot to talk about." He knew she was gone as soon as she finished speaking and wasn't surprised that all he saw was a flash of a dress and cowboy boots, the slightest swing of brunette hair. He cast one last look over his shoulder and saw a shady man standing off in the distance. _So someone got out of that museum at least. _Ward gave him the slightest nod, and then turned to go inside. As he walked through the door he whispered,

"_Hail Hydra."_


End file.
